


For the Fantasy

by MistressofHappyEndings



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, No Plot/Plotless, PWP, Sappy, Somewhere in the near future
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-04
Updated: 2013-12-04
Packaged: 2018-01-03 10:09:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,679
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1069226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MistressofHappyEndings/pseuds/MistressofHappyEndings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Peter indulges Stiles on a sunny afternoon.</p>
            </blockquote>





	For the Fantasy

Peter didn’t bother looking up from the book he was reading when a large, heavy weight settled over his feet. He breathed in the clean, musky scent of his lover with inward satisfaction. He’d chosen this spot earlier hoping this would happen. The window seat was big enough and sunny enough to invite just such an intrusion. Peter adjusted his glasses and pretended to keep reading.

A few turned pages later, his intruder huffed impatiently and began to climb up his living cushion. Peter hid a smile behind his book and spread his knees just far enough for his lover’s weight to settle unexpectedly between his legs. A surprised, happy sigh was his reward. A scant second later, a warm body cuddled close to his, a pair of strong arms closed around his waist, the soft bristle of hair brushed against his belly.

Peter maintained the pretense of ignoring his visitor for a bit longer, deliberately licking a thumb to turn another page. He felt more than heard the nearly inaudible moan. He dropped that hand to rest against a warm, slightly damp neck and idly stroked over the bare patch of skin.

Another contented sound, almost a purr, drifted into the air. They sat like that for a little while, quietly enjoying each other’s touch under the warm morning sun. But only for a little while. A cool nose nuzzled Peter’s stomach where the folds of his button-down parted. Peter sucked in a short huff of laughter at the sensation. He followed it with a surprised guffaw as a raspberry was blown over his navel. 

“Stiles!”

A sly smile and laughing whiskey-colored eyes greeted his outburst. “Yes, Peter?”

“What do you think you’re doing?” Peter asked mock-sternly, peering over his glasses at the unrepentant man in his lap.

“You were ignoring me,” Stiles pouted outrageously. He swatted the backs of his fingers over the cover of Peter’s book. “I know that I’m more interesting than some boring old book.”

Peter arched a brow, barely suppressing more laughter, and closed the item in question primly over his chest. “Oh, you think so?”

“Know so, Peter.” Stiles winked at him smugly. He slowly rubbed his chin over a very interested part of Peter’s anatomy. “Want me to prove it?”

“And how do you intend to do that?” Peter asked a bit breathlessly, trying hard to stay in character. The book slid unnoticed to the floor.

Stiles tilted his head like he was pondering an earth-shattering problem. “Hmm,” he drawled, drawing back a little to attack the fastenings on Peter’s trousers. He smirked when he discovered that Peter wasn’t wearing anything else beneath them. He scooted down until his mouth puffed hot breath over the damp tip of Peter’s cock. Peter’s lips parted in a soundless moan when he gave it a small lick. “I thought I’d start here.”

“Good as place as any - ah God, Stiles!” 

Stiles had gripped him hard and dove down straight to the root in one tortuously long stroke. Eyes fixed on Peter, Stiles moved his head up and down, slow and deliberate, sucking hard enough that Peter saw the muscles in his throat work. Peter reached out a trembling hand and lightly traced the stretched line of Stiles’s mouth. Stiles hummed his approval. The low rumble wrung soft, harsh noises from Peter, sweat breaking out across his skin, his throat and chest flushing. He thumped his head back against the wall, eyes shut tight, and fisted his hands at his sides to keep from grabbing Stiles’s head and just taking that beautiful mouth. That’s not what he wanted today, not what Stiles had asked for. He would take this torture for as long as his lover dished it out.

All of the sudden, the torture stopped. It took Peter’s lust-addled senses a moment to realize this fact, but they all screamed in protest once they did. He opened his eyes and stared blearily at the man now seated in his lap. The scrape of cloth against his hard, flushed cock made him whimper in frustration and just a little pain.

“S-Stiles?”

“You remembered everything,“ he whispered darkly, mouthing up Peter’s jaw to his ear. He bit delicately at the lobe. “Every detail. Someplace sunny but not outside. The unbuttoned, wine-colored shirt. Lord Byron. The glasses. My own gorgeous, sexy English teacher. My fantasy. God, you’re too good to me.”

Peter turned his head slightly and brushed his cheek against Stiles’s. “No, I just love you.”

Stiles’s eyes softened. He leaned in for kiss, sweeping his tongue across Peter’s lips in a silent request for entry. Peter yielded easily, licking greedily at the traces of himself left in Stiles’s mouth. Minutes later, Stiles pulled back the barest fraction, lips brushing still. 

“I love you, too, Peter. Gonna show you how much.” He rocked slightly into the cradle of Peter’s hips and caught the resultant gasp in his own open mouth. “Have a confession to make. I saw you earlier, sitting here waiting for me. Had to stop myself from cumming just at the sight of you. It wasn’t easy.” 

In a surprisingly sinuous move, Stiles slid out his jeans and tossed them onto the discarded book. He settled himself back in Peter’s lap, their cocks rubbing lightly together. They both moaned. Stiles ran his hands restlessly across Peter’s chest, unconsciously tracing over the muscles that he knew by heart. He continued in a whisper.

“So I did the only thing I could. I went back to our room.” He rose up on his knees and reached for Peter’s hands. He brought them around and rubbed the fingertips against his entrance. Peter’s eyes widened at what he felt there a moment before Stiles finished with, “And I got myself ready for you.” 

“Oh God …” 

Peter wrenched one hand free of Stiles’s grip and dug his fingers into the dark hair, yanking Stiles’s mouth back to his own in a fierce kiss. He dipped the fingers of his other hand deep into Stiles’s slick, pliant opening, invading his lover’s body at both ends. Stiles whined, hands bruising Peter’s shoulders as he bucked and writhed at the dual assault.

Stiles jerked back after an especially deep twist, panting hard, each breath edged with a whimper. “Enough, Peter, I’m ready,” he gasped, arching back into the tormenting fingers. “Gotta have you now.”

His words became a moan as Peter pressed his fingers up one last time, moving the tips in tight little circles against that bundle of nerves. Suddenly feeling like he was about to fly apart, Peter carefully freed his fingers, his own breath spilling wildly when Stiles made a protesting noise, his eyes snapping open to fix on Peter.

“Please, Peter,” he pleaded.

“Since you ask so nicely…” Peter ground out, desperately fighting for control. He swiped his tongue up Stiles’s neck and bit at the underside of his jaw as he wrapped both hands around Stiles’s hips and urged him up.

Following Peter’s direction, Stiles reared up to his knees and reached down to guide Peter into his aching body. Stiles attempted to plunge down onto the hard flesh, but his lover’s suddenly vice-like grip on his hips kept him from taking any more than the head past the loosened ring of muscle. Stiles glared down at him in anguished heat. Peter just stared back.

“Slowly, Stiles,” he hissed. “Make it last.”

Stiles’s eyes closed, and a hard shudder wracked his frame before he nodded. Peter drew in a deep breath before he relaxed his grip enough to slowly sheathe his cock in his lover’s clenching heat. Once Stiles was fully seated, Peter released his hips altogether, sliding his hands down Stiles’s thighs until his legs were wrapped around Peter’s waist. He then slid his hands back up to trace over the muscles of the other man’s sweat-slicked chest, to pluck lightly at sensitive nipples. Stiles leaned into the tormenting fingers, raised up as slowly as he had been brought down and began to ride the rigid flesh invading his ass.

They kept to the tortuously slow pace for as long as they could, hands roving over each other’s bodies, teeth nipping at salty skin. Eventually, though, their pace sped up, both men gasping for completion. With one last frantic arch upward, Peter came, crying out in lust and love as he did. Stiles leaned down to steal the sound into his own lungs. The shift in position changed the angle of Peter’s thrusts, the tip of his cock pounding steadily against Stiles’s prostate. A moment later, Stiles’s own cry of release echoed in the room, and he collapsed heavily against the shuddering form in front of him.

After their breathing slowed a bit, Peter raised leaden arms and wrapped them tight around Stiles’s torso. He shifted minutely, pressing his knees against Stiles’s back, keeping himself as deep inside his lover for as long as he could. As much as he hated sliding free of Stiles’s body, Peter knew that Stiles hated it even more. Cradling him close after sex seemed to reassure Stiles, and Peter just loved to hold him when Stiles was pliant and quiescent against him. It didn’t happen often, even when Stiles was asleep, which also wasn’t often, so Peter cherished the moments when they did. 

Too soon, Stiles stirred in his arms, but he uncharacteristically snuggled deeper into the embrace instead of wriggling out of it. Peter felt a slow smile spread across his face.

“Peter?”

“Yes?”

Stiles rubbed his cheek against Peter’s shoulder. “I think I’m gonna just stay here for a while, if that’s all right with you.” He contracted his arms and legs around Peter in silent emphasis.

Peter’s smile softened in contentment. He settled back against the wall in a close, comfortable position. One hand stole into Stiles’s hair and the other resting on the gentle curve at the base of his spine. “Take all the time you want, Stiles, I’m not going anywhere.” He pressed a kiss against Stiles’s temple and repeated, “I’m not going anywhere.”

End.


End file.
